The Art of Existence
by fountainsANDfeathers
Summary: Dana is stuck. Stuck simply existing and not living. Maybe Jax Teller can help her out with that.
1. Chapter 1

"I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I'm gone which would not have happened if I had not come."

― Salman Rushdie, _Midnight's Children_

She really did not think she was being a bitch. In the grand scheme of things she was a nobody. And she knew this without someone feeling the need to tell her that everyday. If you examined the circumstances of her life she knew there was nothing spectacular about her existence. She was born, raised, and had never left her hometown. The product of a checked out truck driver father who never knew how to really relate to the two girls who lived under his roof and a former beauty queen whose official resume included titles such as secretary, receptionist, and administrative assistant but unofficially was just a gold digging adulteress who blamed her family for her never having amounted to anything in life- at least until she left on her youngest's thirteenth birthday. And in the ten plus years since, she'd only heard from the woman who gave birth to her a handful of times.

She graduated high school with a B minus GPA and had tried to hack it out at junior college before her father had a stroke, brought about by the constant late nights of poker he played with himself, the Jack Daniels bottles he hid throughout their small house, and the pack a day attitude he maintained. As gruff and grumpy as her father was she couldn't just let her older sister bear that weight. They were family and Dana had learned early on in life that her sister was pretty much the only person in the world she could depend on. Besides she didn't think it would be for the rest of her life. She had plenty of time to go back to school. And she had been telling herself that for almost five years.

Then her brother-in-law got sent to prison and Dana found herself and her father living in the suddenly tight three bedroom Winston home. She helped around the house, with money, and the kids as best she could but both Lerner sisters had to be honest that if it hadn't been for Gemma Teller-Morrow and her son Jax they probably never would've made it. She would admit there were times when she felt like the Club was responsible for the mess her elder sister was into but if truth be told, Opie was a grown man. And he had made his choice to be outlaw. She might not like the decision but she respected it because she knew that pass the kutte Opie Winston was a good man who loved the hell out of his wife and kids.

She had once asked Donna how she put up with it all. Her older sister had simply shrugged and said, "When Ope asked me to be his old lady Gemma told me the best piece of advice I've ever gotten. She said that if you love the man you learn to love the club. I've held on to that forever. And despite the dark edges and the rough times, the Club provides some sort of stability- even with Ope on the inside. SAMCRO still is and will always be SAMCRO. I can trust that." And Donna's words had been proven true. From the family dinners that offered some sort of comfort, the occasional Friday night party to blow off some steam, Gemma's meatloaf, and Jax's regular routine of maintaining kitchen sinks and old truck transmissions. Even with Ope on the inside- the Club provided the same sort of stability. She almost couldn't believe it- but SAMCRO had become their ray of sunshine in hard times.

But she knew her sister was counting down to the days until her old man could walk in their front door. Thankfully it wouldn't be too much longer because in a week Opie was being released from prison. She could feel the hype in the house- not so much from her father, who despite his health still went on the occasional bender- but from Donna, Kenny, Ellie, Jax, the club members who came around. Things were starting to look up which was why for the first time in five years Dana could honestly say she was in a perpetual state of joy- and this group of assholes just had to walk into the diner and ruin it.

It's why she hated the summer time. All these entitled frat boys rolled into Lodi- home for the school, wound up, and looking for trouble. She had dealt with her fair share of losers over her time waiting tables but after working a double shift because Lana Jenkins couldn't dain to show up for work and spending all that time in these fucking skates the last thing she felt like doing was being hit on by a bunch of inept boys. And like the idiotic morons they were, it was like they thought 24 hour diner with girls in high waisted shorts and red lipstick automatically meant some ass. So when she had demanded these guys quit jerking off and order some food she really didn't think she was acting like the goddamned Queen of England. But that's exactly how they took it.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch," the short and stocky blond kid with the backwards baseball cap spewed out, his arm thrown over the booth and looking at her with an expression like she was the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

"Hey Trav man, calm down. I guess the lady is just tired of being on those skates all day. And now she had to deal with some prime meat rolling into her place of business at one in the morning asking for a slice of her pie. I mean I'd be pissed too if a bunch of hot girls were hitting on me. Oh wait, no I wouldn't," said the dark haired ringleader in a black polo and a pair of tight fitting jeans. Really- who wore jeans that tight?

She rolled her eyes and walked away. It was nights like these when she really hated her boss Dany. Somehow on the nights when all the heckling jackasses rolled in, he left before nine. Now it was just her, the blonde bombshell Maggie, two fry cooks who together weighed about one hundred eighty pounds sopping wet, and the new kid Andy who was a pimply squeaky voiced sixteen year old who was standing in the corner trembling at the four guys sharing a booth built like linebackers.

"These asshats are going to cause trouble Dana," Maggie said from behind the counter, "I'm thinking we should call the cops."

"Don't be such a Barbie Mags. Listen, I'm thinking we should close up early. It's a Tuesday no one's pulling in between now and six tomorrow. Plus I'm beat and I got to lock up. As soon as I so much as threaten to call the cops then these clowns are going to beat feet out of here," Dana explained, rolling her eyes and leaning over the counter on her elbows.

"You sure," Maggie asked raising one perfectly waxed eyebrow and biting nervously on her lower lip, "I mean if you're not going to call the cops don't you wanna call somebody else? Like just in case?"

Dana rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that night. And knew what she was getting at. She was so not taking that bait but Maggie simply wouldn't let the subject drop. Granted not that it should surprise her, she had been going on and on about it ever since Dana had told her one night while they were sharing a late shift a lot like tonight.

"C'mon D. You know he'd be here in like two seconds."

Barely winning the battle not to roll her eyes again, the brunette leaned off the countertop and crossed her arms over her chest, unconsciously moving her feet apart. When Maggie took in the posture of her best friend she knew she had lost the battle. But couldn't help pressing anyhow- at least just to get a rise.

"Honestly Mags just because we slept together doesn't mean he's hopelessly devoted to me. It was one time."

And that was what Dana had been telling herself since it happened. When Donna had started dating Opie when she was seventeen, Dana had been fourteen. And like any other fourteen year old girl she got all fluttery on the inside whenever he entered a room. Over the years the fluttering had simply distilled to a wintry sigh that might've reached her eyes but never her face. And honestly- even she knew that one time had been a mistake. They were drunk and if it hadn't been for her waking up naked and sore she might not have even remembered that it happened. Or so she told herself.

"No, it was one night and then you skipped out in the morning like the cynical sarcastic bitch that you are. I can guarantee you that has never happened to Jax Teller."

"I'm not a bitch," she gasped but Dana felt herself flinch a little bit at his name. Both in disgust and apprehension. It had been a rough night for her- as her boyfriend of six months had broken up with her claiming that she was emotionally unavailable. So like the stubborn ass she was, she simply got out of his car- while he was driving- and begin to walk the few miles home. And then the asshole had left her there- granted she told him that she didn't need his help because she was "emotionally unavailable" and could figure it out on her own. So in a fire engine red wrap dress and some ankle breaking stilettos she had proceeded on her walk- until she spotted a light and heard the rumble of a familiar engine.

Jax had pulled over with a smile on his face, not bothering to hide his slow assessment of Dana's outfit. She chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest before casually asking if he would give her a ride home or not. She hadn't expected the burning arousal that had come from wrapping her arms around his hard taut body or the detour he took to the clubhouse or how he snuck her in through the backdoor. An empty shared bottle of Jack later, she only knew that she didn't protest when he began to unwrap her dress from her body and groan appreciately at the leather scraps she was wearing called underwear. They didn't talk that night- not that they really needed words. They had both gotten their point across. He was horny. She was pissed which had easily morphed into horny. And they were drunk.

They had taken advantage of the opportunity but now it was just weird. Because whenever they were in the same room they shared what she liked to call the Mona Lisa Smile simply because they knew what the other one looked like naked and people were starting to notice the smoldering eyes, the occasional winks, the lustful glances, and those damned smiles. They didn't have a thing so to speak but Dana knew that if she fucked Jax Teller again, there would be no getting it out of her system. But now here was Mags- pretty much her best friend besides her sister suggesting close contact. As if.

"Mags, I don't care about Jax Teller. What I care about is some much needed sleep," she expressed before walking towards the sign on the door and switching it to CLOSED, not bothering to let Mags comment on the situation, "Listen up American Pie," she called to the group of guys who were suddenly looking at her with quizzical expressions as she stood by the front door with fists on her hips and a stern but smartass look on her face, "I'm going to call the police in about five seconds if you don't get your asses out of here."

The words spoke magic as three of them turned to look at the blond in the baseball cap, who noticeably paled a bit. Looks like she hit a nerve. Maybe frat boys weren't so innocent after all? Slowly they all stood up and made their way out the door but not before they all gave her looks that made her feel like she needed a shower and mumbling about pretentious ass waitresses and teasing bitches. Looking towards Andy in the corner she offered him a small smile before watching the team of douchebags climb into a big black SUV and pull out of the parking lot. She let out a breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding.

"Well, now that that's over- we're closing up for the night. Lady and gentlemen this concludes our final act at the Round the Clock diner ," she announced before taking a slight bow.

"But, won't, like, won't Danny be like mad or something," Andy sputtered, gripping tight to the mop in his hand. Dana clucked and shook her head at his response.

"Andy you have so much to learn. Go home kid. You've got to be here at nine. Get some sleep because Mags is training you. Which means it will be part showing you the ropes part groping you."

"Hey, I am not-," but stopped mid sentence at the look Dana pinned her with, "I'm not into jailbait. Besides he's so not my type."

"Penis is your type Mags," came the voice of Anthony as he made his way out of the kitchen with his cousin Johnny on his tail, swinging his key ring around on one finger and offering the two grown women in front of him a smile that Dana was sure dropped panties. Maggie didn't offer a retort but simply crossed her arms over her ample chest and frowned before rolling her eyes.

"Whatever guys. I'm going home," she said reaching down behind the counter to grab her bag and keys. Dana pretended not to notice all three guys eyes zooming right towards her ass. It had been like that for forever. Mags had always been able to stop traffic- but not just with her body. The girl had a personality that was simply infectious. But Dana- she was too closed off, to critical and skeptical, too...emotionally unavailable. "I'll call you later bitch," her best friend called over her shoulder before strutting out the door.

"Slut," Dana called back.

Johnny shook his head before grabbing his backpack from the same spot Mag's purse had been in, "I will never understand how girls talk to each other? You need us to stay behind while you lock up?"

"Please. I'll do more damage to any nefarious character without you guys in my way," she said on a chuckle as Antonio slapped Andy on the back, who occasionally bummed rides from the two.

She made quick work of bussing the place down, not that it took much as most of everything had been done before those group of guys came in. She wasn't kidding when she said it had been a slow night. She locked the doors before putting in her earbuds. If her life had taught her anything- it was that she definitely needed to lock the door. She shuddered at the thought then tucked it away to where it had escaped from as she closed up. The last thing she did was take off her skates. She didn't know why she always did that last but she couldn't express the feeling she got when her feet slid into a pair of beaten and worn Converses. She didn't even bother tying the laces. Grabbing her bag from the back room and popping one earbud out she made her way out the front door to her dad's beat up old Ford truck. Sure, it gave her problems but she loved it.

Except on night like tonight when it was damn two in the morning and it wouldn't start. She let her forehead hit the steering wheel with an inaudible thud before groaning and throwing open the door and popping the hood. Unlike her sister who didn't know how to change a flat tire if her life depended on it, Dana had grew up pestering her father about his truck. He hadn't cared for it but eventually he let her hang around and she learned how to hold her on with any piece of auto machinery. It was the earbud in her ear and her frustration with the truck and the overall fatigue where she would later lay the blame on why she didn't hear them. But she sure as hell felt it.

It was like being hit with a semi truck. Her ribs collided with the grill of the truck with no mercy and her eyes immediately upon impact brimmed with water. Someone grabbed her by her arm roughly and spun her around, nearly pulling her arm out of socket. It was the blond in the baseball cap. And he looked way past sinister.


	2. Chapter 2

"A man said to the universe: "Sir, I exist!" "However," replied the universe, "The fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."

- Stephen Crane, _War is Kind and Other Poems_

"Do you really think you can talk to me like I'm a fucking waste of piece and get away with it?"

He was seething. There was spittle forming in the corners of his mouth and he was huffing and puffing, chest heaving with adrenaline and exertion. There was sweat starting to darken the brim of the baseball cap he was still wearing and his fingers were digging their way into her skin, sure to leave bruises. It was a quick thought that let her know if she was able to make it out of this situation with just bruises she was lucky. Because this was bad. It was dark. It was late. And the two of them were alone. She had no idea where his buddies were and seeing that she saw the whole group of them drive off in a gas guzzling Escalade she had been sure she was in the clear. It was the main reason she had been bopping along to the singular ear bud in her ear instead of being completely aware of her surroundings. But despite that her nerves had hit zero to sixty in less than three seconds and her heart rate had sped up because she was scared shitless, she wasn't about to let this degenerate asshole know that. So she did something, that in this situation was probably not the smartest idea, she talked to him like she would anybody else.

"You are a fucking waste of space," she spat out. She knew it would piss him off more but she was not going to make this easy for him. She was not going to make this what he wanted by being submissive. She knew it was a stupid move and so she wasn't all that surprised when he grabbed her by her hair and banged her head against the grill of the truck. She blinked a few times more than normal to rid herself of the stars and the ringing noise currently evolving into a dull throbbing sensation right behind her eyes.

She felt blood and a bit of stinging pain and then a sharp tug when he pulled her hair. She winced briefly, wondering if some of her hair would end up in this psychopath's hands. Her fear had now turned into full blown fright and felt tears creeping up her eyes but she refused to cry. She buried her terror and lashed out, trying to get some knees and elbows in. Her knee collided with his stomach but it was like jabbing a wall and he let out a surprised grunt, releasing her hair for a split second and allowing her to get an elbow up to his face again but he was quick and before she could really get her bearings and let her flight response kick in, she was pinned to the truck again.

"I knew it. I knew you liked it rough," he told her smiling, using his body to pin her down against the cool metal of her dad's truck and his arms around her body to keep her restrained. He was hot and sweating and panting and she felt like she was going to throw up. He bent over her, licking a salty path of her skin and bit her neck- hard, she swore she felt blood- before whispering to her how pretty she was. Then he yanked her top around, fabric ripping, buttons popping off and hitting the dirt. It was then that she started screaming, thrashing her body around trying to get loose. And she still refused to cry. Even when he stuck his hand down her shirt roughly.

"Get off me," she screamed, yanked her body, not caring about the searing pain that was ripping through her shoulder from being held down or the pain slamming through her head right now. As he started to widen his stance to undo his pants, she took advantage of the opening and placed her left foot up on the truck and kicked her body away.

It was enough momentum to send them both to the ground but he managed to roll on top of her. Grabbing and tugging painfully at any part of her body that he could get his hands on so she reached up and bit him soundly on the face as hard as she could. He screamed and reached back to hit her. What was intended to be a blow ended up becoming more of a swat. And then he was off of her, more like scrambling off her. When her ears and eyes begin to focus she let out a wave of relief she didn't know she had been holding. She saw a wave of black leather and long blonde hair fly in front of her, throwing a punch to the kid in the baseball cap that left him bloody and missing some teeth.

From her position on the ground, she scrambled to her hands and knees, and looked up in time to see Jax holding a gun on the her would be rapist. Later on she would over analyze her actions and offer up some sarcastic remark to why she did what she did next but now she would chalk it up to the fear and adrenaline that her head thinking the way she did. She jumped up, ignoring the pain in her body and threw herself in front of Jax's gun. His blue eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed. He was calm and in control. Unlike the other guy who was breathing hard and standing with his hands up in the air- and there was now a distinct smell of piss in the air.

"Don't do it," she told him in a steady voice, "it isn't worth the fallout."

"What the hell are you talking about D?! This wackjob was about to rape you."

"I know," and I don't need to be reminded...ever she thought to herself before taking a deep breath and swallowing the bile that was threatening to creep up her throat, "but he isn't worth the fallout. He didn't...finish. He's not going to come back. You don't need to do this. Not for me," she said seriously and on a quiet note. She was unsure about whether he would hear her, especially since his finger was seriously clenching the trigger.

Finally he relented and lowered his gun but his nose flared, his eyes stayed narrowed, and his mouth set in a grim line- an expression she imagined he was capable of but had never seen before- and stepped towards the baseball cap guy who was sporting a bloody face courtesy of the bite mark she had given him on his left cheek and a bloody mouth from her biker in shining armor before saying in a voice so true and collected that she swore it seemed like everything around them stopped to take heed, "If I see you again. I will kill you."

He didn't need to be told twice because he bolted and ran down the side of the building and past the non-landscaped bushes in the alley in back before they heard the slamming of a door and the throttle of an engine being thrown into gear. Of course, Dana thought to herself as she watched his ride burn rubber at ninety miles per hour out of the alley and onto the main road. It left her and Jax standing in the parking lot, staring at each other. Closing her eyes and squeezing the bride of her nose before popping her fingers, she sighed and said loudly "Mags called you didn't she?"

"Seriously, that's what you want to talk about right now?"

"I can't Jax, not now anyways," she told him, making her way to sit on the slice of pavement near the door, letting the cool glass calm the sweat stained shivers that were starting to work their way up her body. Talking about Mags was safe. Talking about this was detrimental to her ability to keep it together. And everyone depended on her to keep it together. She prided herself on her ability to keep it together.

"Really, I think I might kiss Mags," he told her, coming to sit down next to her. He pulled a cigarette and a lighter out from his cut and took a long drag and then handed it to her. They swapped it back and forth until he took the butt from her chipped fingernails and ground it underneath his sneaker. At some point, her head had drifted onto his shoulder and she was taking deep steady breaths. He wasn't going to comment on the shaking. He had a feeling that if he said anything she'd look up at him with a quirked eyebrow and tell him to eat shit. That was just Dana. Instead he threw an arm around her and reveled in the fact that she snuggled closer and so he wound his arms tighter around her and asked if she thought she could ride back with him.

"Yeah," she mumbled sleepily, "I'm going to have to come get the truck tomorrow. It wouldn't start."

That was a different topic all together and he grew up with the motto brain before bullets so he would pick his battles. He helped her up and she stumbled into him a bit, big round mossy forest green eyes looking tired and brimming with tears. His hands clenched around her shoulders and fought to bury themselves into her hair- but common sense won out.

"You ready to go home?"

"Jax," she cried out, standing up straight and instantly on alert. She hoped he would ignore that wince that ripped across her face before she schooled her emotions, "You can't take me home. Donna will freak. And-."

"I hadn't planned on it Sawyer," he told her offering a relaxed smile, hiding that he wasn't saddened when she didn't bristle when he called her by her middle name, "I'll take you back to the clubhouse," she opened her mouth to protest again, "Through the back way. Now do you think you can hold on to me on the ride back?"

She closed her eyes and simply nodded before taking another deep breath and slowly walking to the truck to grab her bag. She followed him to his bike and took his helmet without hesitation before she climbed on back though, she touched his hand, and told him through hooded eyelashes, "I am so glad Mags called you." After that declaration he smiled- as that was all he could offer her at the moment- and tried to rein in his body when she climbed on his bike behind him and wrapped her arms around her body, her hands sitting low on his waist. He sped out the parking lot, not bothering to look back.

The ride back was too short Dana thought. Even though she would never tell him, Dana loved being on the back of Jax's bike. It was something so liberating about watching everything around you go by slow as you raced through it all full speed ahead. Something sobering about being able to smile and enjoy the wind even as it beat across your face. And there was nothing better than leaning into a curve and riding along with the pressure. For someone who felt like she had been living her life for the past five years at everyone else's pace it was easy to get lost into the feeling. And Jax- well he would never let her live it down if she told him how she really felt.

Which was why her face stayed stoic when Jax parked his bike in the back alley behind TM and she climbed off, handing him her helmet without a word. He unceremoniously grabbed her hand and led her to a door by the dumpster that she had never known to be there. The door itself however was triple locked from the outside and she begin to get nervous while Jax fished for a set of keys in the dark washed jeans that hung low on his waist. When he got it opened, she filed away the knowledge about the door opening directly into the dorm rooms at the clubhouse, and concentrated more on the walls- as if she hadn't seen them a dozen times already- instead of the fact that Jax was leading her hand in hand to his room.

Entering the room, she dropped her bag on a random desk chair up against the wall and toed off her shoes, leaving them where she stepped out of them before flopping down on his bed. She looked around and noted how clean it was- the work of Gemma or a prospect she assumed. She'd been in this room a dozen times too so there was no reason for her to be looking around examining everything as if it was new. It was the very loud sound of the lock on the door clicking into place and the very real awareness that Jax was still standing at the door watching her that had her looking everywhere but at him.

And that was because the last time she was in this room- it had been the best night of her life- and she had walked out of this room the very next morning without a word. And honestly besides polite greetings and the one argument they had when Jax wanted to talk and she refused to talk about it, they hadn't had much of a verbal conversation since. Nope all their talking had been done with the eyes. Longing looks. Lustful intakes. Narrowed gazes of annoyance. Frustrated eye rolls. And quite frankly it had been exhausting. And she knew he knew. It was why he hadn't moved.

She heard a rustling and thought it was him taking his kutte off and because she was torturing herself she looked up at him. He was looking down at her. His mouth was slightly parted and his pupils were blown and he looked so strong, safe, and amazing just standing there watching her. To see if she would fall apart or do what she always did- soldier through it.

"So, um...thanks," she offered, reaching up to tuck a chocolate cherry lock behind her pierced ear, "You know for coming to check up on me and everything. I'm sure-."

"I didn't do it for Opie," his interrupted response was riddled with exasperation and acquiescence all at once. She scrunched her nose- not sure if she was disturbed by the fact that she could pinpoint those emotions or not. Before she could decide however he continued, "I did it for you," he said on a sigh, spinning the chair around that her bag in it so he could sit in.

He tossed her bag onto a end table and she winced when her digital camera fell out. He picked it up and gave her a look that told her he was sorry. She nodded and cocked her head to the side; so he placed it back in the bag gently.

"How'd you know I was going to say that? About Ope."

"Lucky guess," he chuckled before his eyes narrowed in on her legs and he stood up to make his way to the bathroom.

She looked down at herself and noticed the cuts and scrapes on her legs from the tumble to the ground. She closed her eyes and held them closed even when Jax came back from the bathroom with the first aid kit. Dropping that stuff on his desk, he moved to kneel in front of her, putting his hands on the side of her face.

"Open your eyes," he whispered and she shook her head no, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. As long as she closed her eyes this wasn't real. She wasn't all banged up from an attempted assault tonight. She wasn't once again in this room with Jax craving his touch but denying her need for it all at the same. Damnit, her life wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to be this girl. So she closed her eyes and if she could keep them closed she could buy into the lie that everything was fine. And she knew that sooner or later, just like always, she would start to believe it.

But Jax wouldn't let her. He wasn't going to let her go to that place, that place so full of denial that no one could reach her. Dana Lerner was a pro at compartmentalizing and acting like nothing ever irked the shit out of her. But anybody who knew the girl knew that was a lie. Beneath all that attitude and clever sarcastic comebacks was a girl who felt everything hard. Who had given up her life to take care of her dad after his stroke, had went even further when her brother-in-law had went to prison and her sister needed help with just doing life. It might be Donna's house but a blind man could see that Dana held that shit together. He still couldn't figure out how she did it for the past five years. Take care of their dad- which was two jobs in and of itself because Karl Lerner was not an easy man to get along with- help Donna keep the house and raise Ope's two kids and not once complain about the crap job she worked or the bleak social life she led.

At twenty-four, she should be out living it up. Doing more than what she was doing. And in some ways that was the main reason Jax felt guilty and selfish in his attraction for her. She was too damned good for him. Even if she didn't know it. But he did. He also knew that, courtesy of her sister, she had been nursing those fluttering glances for him ever since she was fourteen. He'd been lying if he hadn't thought about it when she had been a teenager. Once Ope and Donna had got together, he saw Dana pretty much all the time. The thought had crossed his mind on multiple occasions but other than the fact that Donna would kill him, he wouldn't put his life long friendship with Opie in that position. Even when Ope got locked up, he had promised to look after Donna but truth be told he had extended that to Dana in the back of mind. He really thought he could maintain a relationship with a woman outside of sex but seriously though Jack into the mix and a banging red dress that made her curves look like pure gold and he was a goner.

And ever since the morning he woke up and found that she had booked it out of his bed without so much as a word to the night they had shared together, he was forced to face the truth. The real reason he hadn't pushed anything with Dana wasn't out of some misguided respect to his best friend and her brother-in-law or because she was too young or because she was too good for him (even though all of those things were true and factored into his decision) but the real reason was that he knew he could end up falling head-over-heels-could-live-without-you-but-won't-make-babies-and-grow-old-together type of love with Sawyer. He inwardly smiled at the thought before leaning up he placed a quick kiss on her forehead and tried again, "Look at me Sawyer."

She absolutely hated it when he called her that. It was her middle name- but still, she couldn't stand to be called that. But tonight, it didn't bother her nearly as much. Not that she would ever tell him that. But it was something in the way that he said it time. Something languid and gasp inducing that compelled her to want to do what he asked of her. And even though it was worded like a commandment, it was a request. So slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes. And it really did seem like forever before her eyes opened and she bore right into his gaze. And for the first time in forever she felt as if she wasn't holding anything back in her expression. And she knew the moment he saw it. Because she saw in his eyes everything she was feeling. Fear. Anger. Guilt. Embarrassment. She cried. Not sobbing tears but silent streams that came steady and even.

"You came for me," she whispered, her head falling into the crook of his shoulder and her arms wrapping around him.

"Duh," was his reply and they both laughed. She wiped at her tears and shook her head no.

"You were willing to go there for me. To that place. I always knew you were capable of it. But I never thought I'd see it."

"You okay," she felt his expression changed, he tensed almost as if he was ready for a blow, his eyebrows furrowed and she felt his hand twitch and she knew he was itching to run it over his mouth and down his jawline like he often did when he was unsure about something. She didn't want him to feel like that because of her. She knew what he was asking. If she was okay that he had been prepared to kill that guy in front of her for what he did to her, for what he wanted to do to her. She gifted him a small smile.

"I know who you are. And you came for me," when she realized how husky that sounded when it came out, she also realized that she was touching him and how she was touching him. Her hands were running up and down his arms, nipping at the skin there. She pulled her arms back and ignored the cold numbness that suddenly occupied her fingertips and started to ramble, "I'm sorry. I thought that guy was harmless. I had no idea he would be...waiting...for me like that. And I was so scared. And he had me pinned to the truck but then I almost got away but he grabbed me. And I was angry but I thought he was gonna- and then you were there. And I was relieved because I was safe. But then you were gonna...and I couldn't let you do that. It would be too much. How would you take care of that? And then his friends were there and we didn't know- what if they told? And- holy fuck Jax, I'm okay. And you're okay. And I haven't been more happy to see you in my life than I am right now."

She knew some of what she had said hadn't made any sense but she hoped that he understood that last part clear as day because she wasn't sure she could repeat it again. He was staring at her. Realistically it couldn't have been more than two seconds had passed but with the way he was looking at her it seemed like, well, like he could just look at her for eternity. The silence was soothing. The numbness in her fingertips begin to spread but she didn't want it to. She wanted to feel warm and alive. However, the more he just looked at her the more she felt unfeeling.

She darted her eyes away from him and gazed around the room when she felt his hand press against the back of her neck and ease her face back to his. But he didn't say anything. He just kept looking. His eyes had darkened to a sensual shade of blue and her lips parted uncontrollably. At the movement, his eyes instantaneously darted to her mouth. Her breath quickened but he showed no signs of losing control whatsoever. That need begin to whisper against her nerve endings and she didn't know why she was feeling it now, just that she was definitely feeling it. He began to lean in, his lips coming to her at a miniscule rate, almost as if he was giving her time to prepare herself...or change her mind. It was barely at the touching of their lips that she did just that.

"Jax," she started on an exhale, her eyes closing and her face frowning. She didn't know why but now her heart was beating fast for an all too different reason. Her fingers were clutching the bedding, and she swore she felt pinpricks of sweat at her hairline. She felt him pull away- not too slow and not too quick, more like deliberately- and swept her sight down to the floor, pretty much refusing to look up at him.

"I'm going outside for a smoke. Move my bike to the front of the building. You can get cleaned up, borrow a shirt or something D," he told her, picking up his kutte and his keys before moving out the room and closing the door with a dull thud.

She don't know how long she sat there, blinking back tears until she actually reached for the first aid kit. It wouldn't be until the morning when she even begin to think about how she would explain this shit to her sister.


End file.
